Sex War One

SWOSex War One – my dystopian Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful characterization,” said the Science Fiction Studies journal. “This book unifies within it the principles of major Science-Fiction literature,” said This World. Kindle Edition & Smashwords Edition (for iTunes, Kobo, B&N & more.) For further details please check my books page.

To give you a taste of the book, I’ve been posting segments of my award-winning short story, “The Monster,” which serves also as the basis for the book. Here then is the fifteenth segment:

He again traveled on the constantly moving tracks, before taking the elevator down to the backyard level. Once there, he quickly entered Z.Z.’s shack. She was deep asleep, so peaceful and secure, the way she had slept when she was a child, before she was attacked and abused by the other kids. Only the innocents can sleep like that, the thought flashed in his head. He stood still by her side for a while, just looking at her, before touching her lightly with his hand. She woke up immediately and looked at him confused, as if unsure who he was. Then she got up, already alert, and approached him with the intention of hugging him.
It was an impulsive, natural act for her. She wasn’t used to his coming to visit her at such a strange time, dressed so unusually with this heavy-looking suit. It was as if he had come straight out of the dream from which she had awoken. No wonder she temporarily forgot what he had taught her about stretching her hand at him first. He stopped her approach, holding on to her shoulders with both hands. He held her like that, some distance away from him, looking at her intently for a moment before signaling her to sit down. She understood him and followed his order. She was frightened and hurt.
It occurred to him that maybe he should take pity on her. It was a “historic” word, pity, a word they had studied at school but no longer used. It represented a feeling, such as love and hate, which belonged to a different age: the Family Age. He thought about it only briefly, before quickly deciding to reverse course again.
He set his helmet down on the floor, signaled her to stay put, and hurried out of her shack. He went back to the yard and tunnels, and from there up to the main Control-Room. B.F. allowed him in without any questions, as if he were waiting for him. It took D.L. a moment to get used to the bright lights in the large room, a room full to capacity with computers and screens of all kinds, robots of all shapes and sizes, many cameras and a single colony-citizen, responsible for the smooth execution of all the colony’s operations.
D.L. asked B.F. to order the robot in charge of the Weapons-Cell to open it for him. Only one particular robot was authorized to open that cell, where a few radiation-guns and some more elaborate radiation-machine-guns were kept locked. Other than in that cell, there were no weapons in the colony. The colony-citizens had no use for weapons: they were kept there only for an emergency use, such as an attack from a different colony, from an alien planet, or for use in other such unexpected events. Even then, if possible, and time permitted, they were to be used only by direct orders from the Mother-Colony.
Not this time, though. D.L. explained to B.F. that he needed the gun for the purpose of exterminating the Monster. He needed no further explanations: B.F. supported N.R.’s position on the matter and was glad to see D.L. obeying the General-Assembly’s decision. He ordered Robot W.1, in plainspoken language, to open the Weapons-Cell and hand D.L. a radiation-gun. The robot insisted, speaking in kind, on receiving the correct code for such an unusual request. B.F., though agitated with the robot, consulted with a nearby computer screen and provided the code: a combination of letters, numbers, and symbols. Robot W.1, satisfied with the given code, proceeded mechanically and efficiently, using not only its arms but also electronic beam signals coming from its head, to execute the order.
D.L. checked the load level of radiation in the gun, as he had been trained to do in his youth, and found it to be satisfactory. He thanked Robot W.1 verbally, and also tapped on its head twice fondly, eliciting sounds and lights of joy from the robot. He then inserted the gun into a special, big pocket in his trip-suit.


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Filed under Culture, Destopian, Literary, Sci-fi

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